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A previously unreleased mix of the great man toasting over a one-away Satta excursion, for Lloydie Slim; and a previously unreleased dub.
The utterly brilliant Roy Samuel Reid at the top of his game, riding tougher-than-tough Nineys. Back in.
Roy Reid (a JA customs official) on the politics of national currencies, with a dub getaway to Ruritania — from The General double.
It’s a shame he doesn’t stick to his theme, instead wandering into auto-pilot, but we’d happily listen to the great man recite a parking ticket.
A graduate of soundsystems like Gemini and Volcano Hi Power, Little John was twelve years old when he voiced this tune, shifting its sights from snitches and stoolies, straight to the head of all party-poopers. It appeared in 1983 during Sugar’s stay in London after Good Thing Going was a national pop hit in 1980, coming on the Stoke Newington label M And M - presumably named after Minott and his then-partner, Coxsone Dodd’s niece Maxine Stowe. Appearing first with Wackies’ pink-to-orange labels, Batta’s cut is a different mix again to the version on his album. He bows to U-Roy at the start, before switching to a more contemporary delivery. Sugar is in attendance throughout, almost as if the pair were taking turns at the mic, before the dub takes over.
Two versions, different dubwise mixes of Sugar Minott’s massive Informer rhythm — both choca with living dancehall vibes and Channel One-style deadliness.
Warehouse find; last box.
The first decent compilation of these Clement Bushay productions.
Downright crucial Jazzbo like Step Forward Youth and Every Nigger Is A Winner.
Upful, late-eighties singjaying, with nuff namechecks and squiddly diddlies, over a crisp, bustling rhythm.
Characteristically masterful singjaying; duetting with himself, for added dancehall vibes. The message calls for self-respect to be tempered by humility… probably a bit rich coming from KK. Sick rhythm.
In his dazzling, rubadub flow, with intricate rhyming, lavish word-play and off-the-wall allusiveness, his genial socialism and jubilant, green-fingered vegetarianism, his knockabout sense of humour and all-round irrepressible good vibes, Ranger is the peerless heir to U-Roy and Dennis Alcapone… and the most diplomatic of envoys for the new dancehall styles just around the corner. He’s undervalued because of a perceived lack of gravitas, but he’s one of the all-time great deejays, and this is his best work.
Have a listen to the musical shock attack Automatic: over Take A Ride, no less, he bundles the Last Poets into a breakneck stream of consciousness, with walk-ons for Marcus Garvey, Bag O Wire, and Garvey’s secretary Mother Muschett; Dovecot Memorial Park and Madison Square; a bad boy who doesn’t know Ranger’s dad is a cop; succinct advice like ‘natty don’t play card inna Babylon yard’; a big baboon in the light of the moon, a broken chair, a felt hat, an anchor you can’t conchor…
“Everybody was wondering why I sounded different. And the reason I sounded different was through I did grow in England and I have the English accent and when I speak you can hear every word I am saying clearly. It was a plus for me. And then through I liked to write poetry and write songs, you know I’m a writer, I stick to the topic from start to finish.”
And the musical rhythms are a preposterous fish-tea tidal wave of Studio One classics (plus a Shank I Sheck): Take A Ride/Truths & Rights, Real Rock/Armageddon Time, One Step Beyond, Hot Milk, Throw Me Corn, Never Let Go, Full Up, Please Be True, Things A Come Up To Bump.
So let the good time roll, with Sir Coxsone at the control. When Ranger talk, the dance it have fe cork.
Deliriously enjoyable. Terrific cover art, too.
Very highly recommended. Five ribbits, five bims, five flash-its, five oinks.